


black coffee

by jisquish



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: <-- not that much but eh, Coffee Shops, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insomnia, M/M, aka chan is me lol, chan is stupid and gay, its fluff i swear, just a lot of fluff, not necessarily even in a good way im Just Dead, please enjoy i sufferedTM, this fic killed me and buried my body in the backyard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 13:06:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14569662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jisquish/pseuds/jisquish
Summary: The cafe is a safe haven. At least, it was.Until Chan walked in on the fourth night in a row and saw a Very Beautiful Man standing at the register and almost choked on his own spit, accidentally concerning the Beautiful Man, probably because it looked like he was about to fall over on the spot. Which, to be fair, he was.(insomnia is a bitch and woojin happens to work somewhere that sells coffee.)





	black coffee

**Author's Note:**

> this literally,,, is such crack?? its like 50% crack 30% fluff 20% angst. what happened why is it so cracky i dont fucking know im tired and gay and chan relates!! ur welcome america. i wrote this while listening to shine by pentagon on repeat for 3 days straight and i will not be held accountable for my actions.  
> also we’re gna pretend chan never lived in australia because im Fucking Tired this fic was so self indulgent  
> also i am an Easy Blusher Bang Chan stan and you can tell  
> thank u to spearbi on tumblr + ao3 for being the best beta ever clair i love u 2 death (and read her fics as well they're so goOD)  
> content warnings in the end notes!! nothing is graphic but if u have a trigger it's worth checkin out <33

**WOOJIN**

 

“Does it look like I have two hands?”

“You do have two hands, Felix,” Woojin says sleepily, leaning against the counter.

“No. I know I do. Wait. Ok, does it look like I have  _ three  _ hands  _ total  _ and that I have two right hands?”

Woojin side-eyes the blonde, who is indeed staring at his (two) hands with a bleary, puzzled expression. Woojin narrows his eyes.

“No, you still have two. Did you sleep at all today?”

“No,” Felix admits, stifling a yawn. “I had class after work, and then I was working on a paper for the rest of the day.”

“What papers do you have to write for a dance major?” Woojin asks, furrowing his brow. Felix just shrugs evasively.

“Papers. Work.”

Woojin is spared having to answer this when the door opens and sets off the little bell hanging from it. He promptly straightens up to greet the customer with his practiced service-smile. It’s a tired-looking woman (indeed, most of their customers are varying degrees of tired-looking), and she orders a vanilla latte and leaves in a hurry.

When the door shuts behind her a few minutes later, Woojin stretches and turns to Felix. “You should really get more sleep, Felix-ah,” he says reproachfully.

“I try! I usually do, anyway. And you’re one to talk, hyung.”

He has to admit that Felix has a point. Woojin has been running on about 6 hours of sleep per day for the two months he’s been working this job. It was the only one he could get, and he desperately needed the money, which is the only reason he’d agreed to work the graveyard shift at his local overnight coffee bar.

It’s not as bad as he thought it would be. He works five days a week, but he makes decent money, and purposely signed up for only morning classes. When he can, he sleeps from the afternoon to the evening, and goes to work when his shift starts at midnight. Three times a week, he shares his shift with Felix, a fidgety blonde Australian boy. Woojin has somewhat taken him under his wing and gets along well with him, so it could be worse. Much worse.

They don’t usually get many customers during their shift, anyway. It’s rare for there to be more than one person in there at a time, though they definitely do get some… interesting characters. The ‘WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE TO ANYONE’ sign has been Woojin’s saving grace from dodgy drunks several times already.

Pushing himself back dramatically from the counter, he goes to wipe down the few tables that are actually in need of cleaning, desperate for something to do. He has his back to the door when the bell rings again, but pays it no mind.

“Just a black coffee, thanks,” he hears the customer say to Felix in a tired, raspy voice. Woojin drops a stray used napkin in the trash and returns to the counter, casting a glance at the customer as he does.

The poor man looks awful. That’s not to say that he’s ugly--in fact, he has quite a handsome face, with pretty eyes, silvery hair, and a large nose that suits him quite well--but he looks absolutely haggard. He seems young, probably about Woojin’s age or a little younger, with large bags under his eyes and slightly sunken cheekbones. His clothes are oversized and rumpled. He looks like he can barely stand up straight, but he doesn’t seem drunk or anything, just tired.

_ Been there,  _ Woojin thinks with a pang of empathy for the customer, busying himself with restacking the mugs. Encounters with exhausted strangers is hardly a rare occurrence. (He  _ does _ work from 12 to 4 AM in a place that sells caffeine.)  Something about this one, though, makes Woojin almost want to ask if the customer is all right, to tell him that whatever he’s working on to be buying a black coffee at 2 AM can wait till he gets some sleep. 

But when he turns around, the words on the tip of his tongue, the bell chimes again softly and he watches a black hoodie vanish out the door.

-

Woojin completely forgets about the customer by the next day. Tuesdays are Felix’s off day, but they got another employee a couple weeks ago who works Tuesdays and Sundays with Woojin. His name is Minho, and Woojin doesn’t know him very well yet, but he seems cool.

About halfway through their shift, Woojin has just gone to clear off a few tables when he hears the bell jingle again.

“Black coffee, please.”

Woojin straightens up, wondering why the voice sounds familiar as he stacks the couple plates on top of each other. When he turns around, he recalls the very tired customer from Monday morning as Woojin finds him once again standing in front of the counter, looking no less dishevelled. Woojin is also pretty sure he’s still wearing the same hoodie. He watches Minho tally up his order, and observes the customer curiously. Again, he looks like he’s about to pass out, eyes drooping and face devoid of expression. Woojin wonders if he will come in tomorrow too, and why he doesn’t just buy coffee grounds to make at his house. Maybe he’s homeless. He doesn’t look far from it.

Lost in his thoughts, Woojin doesn’t notice that the mystery customer is leaving until the door shuts behind him. 

-

He doesn’t work Wednesdays, so after class, he goes home and passes out for as long as he feels like, managing  _ almost  _ to forget about a certain silver haired boy.

But not fully. 

Thursday, Woojin makes Felix wipe down tables every time they need cleaning, watching the door, not exactly sure where his eagerness is stemming from. He decides that he is just a naturally curious and empathetic person, and that’s it. He wants to make sure that the man isn’t killing himself through lack of sleep. He certainly looks like he is.

But his shift passes without any sight of a silver-haired boy, and he begins to think it was just a fluke. 2 AM comes and goes, and then 2:30, and then 3.

At 3:30, though, the bell jingles again. 

Woojin looks up on habit, and almost does a comical double-take when he sees the gray-haired man walking inside. He makes eye contact with Woojin, who offers up his Customer Service grin, expecting a stone-faced greeting or a forced smile at the most. 

But instead the man’s eyes widen a bit, and he slows to a stop a few feet from the counter, swaying a little where he stands. Woojin worries for a second that he is actually going to pass out, and even starts moving out from behind the counter, but his movement seems to snap the silver-haired boy out of his brief stupor. The man shakes his head, almost doglike.

“Sorry,” he says, voice rough as ever. 

“Oh--you’re good,” says Woojin awkwardly. “Uh, black coffee, yeah?”

He doesn’t know why he said that. One of his manager’s specific instructions when he started was to ever assume a customer’s order, even if they’re a regular. Oops.

Silver Haired Boy blinks in surprise. “Y-yeah. How--”

“Sorry,” Woojin says, embarrassed. “I was working Monday and Tuesday when you came in. Didn’t mean to--sorry.”

“Oh. You’re--yeah.” Silver Haired Boy looks enormously disoriented. It’d be adorable if Woojin wasn’t actually quite concerned for his health.

“Sorry,” Woojin says again, already unsure of exactly what he’s apologizing for. “Um. That’ll be 3,186 won.”

“Oh--right.” He jerks dramatically and fumbles with his pockets, managing to drop a whole handful of coins. He dives for the floor, face bright red, and Woojin stifles a snort before hurrying out from behind the counter to help him.

When he squats down, the man is viciously whispering something under his breath, but stops when he notices Woojin has joined him. He’s cute when he’s flustered. Woojin almost says that out loud, but he’s not  _ quite  _ that ballsy.

Instead, he just helps collect the customer’s change and hands it to him with a sympathetic smile as they both straighten up.

“Sorry,” the man says, still impressively red. Woojin laughs lightly.

“You’re not the first. Much more dramatic things have happened.”

“Yeah?” the man says with a half grin, almost inviting a conversation, but then he hands Woojin the rest of his payment for the coffee and bites his lip. “Well. Thanks.”

“Of course,” Woojin says distractedly. “Um, name?”

He’s the only one in the cafe. There’s really no need to ask his name, but Woojin wants to know.

“Chan,” the man says, looking only marginally suspicious. Chan. It suits him. Woojin nods (very professionally), writing ‘ _ Chan ~’  _ on the cup as he moves to fill it with coffee. Felix returns from wiping down tables (took him long enough), giving Woojin an odd little grin as he goes into the back.

“Here you go,” Woojin says, putting the coffee in a sleeve and handing it to the silver haired boy, who takes it with a look of utmost concentration. Woojin imagines that he is probably trying hard not to drop anything else.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, giving Woojin a small but genuine smile before leaving. Woojin watches him go, and wonders if he will come back again. The boy--Chan--should really get some sleep, and cut down on the coffee. He’s been up and out at 2:30 AM for at least 3 of the past 4 days. (So has Woojin, but that’s not the point.) He’s clearly not getting the sleep he should, and Woojin wants those bags under his eyes to go away.

But he also kind of wants to see him again.

 

**CHAN**

 

Insomnia is a bitch.

He’s known this for seven years now, so it really should not be a surprise, but it remains a thorn in his side. He’d thought it had went away, but then he turned 18 and stopped living at Jisung’s house and realised that his sad little apartment was very empty and that the night still made his heart race as much as it had since he was 13.

There are a few things in Chan’s life that he feels like he’s past, but his mind seems to refuse to accept that fact.

He had told Jisung that he was fine, that there were bad nights sometimes but usually he could sleep  _ fine  _ alone. He’d lied. That had been true for maybe the first couple months spent by himself, but it had slowly devolved back into what it had always been. He thinks Jisung still sort of knows--when Chan gets too obviously exhausted he’s always there, offering to spend the night or the week, or sometimes just forcing his way into Chan’s apartment because “I want to hang out with you, you idiot,” and then tackling Chan onto the nearest surface and refusing to let go until Chan falls asleep. Those are the only times he really can.

Chan appreciates him. He really does.

But he’s also taken up too much of Jisung’s life as is, so he tries to not let his struggles be too obvious to the younger boy. He doesn’t need him worrying about him.

And when he was 17 and staring at the ceiling at 2 AM for the 5th night in a row, maybe then he  _ would _ have called Jisung to come hold him, but he’s 20 now and he’s trying to teach himself that that can’t always be an option. So after almost a week of catching an hour of sleep at a time, usually during the day, he had given up. When he drifted back awake at 1:30 after falling asleep just 90 minutes ago, he grabbed his keys and left his all-too-constricting apartment.

Two blocks away, he had realised that wandering the streets of Seoul very late at night (or early in the morning) is probably not the best idea. He’d been too tired to care much about being mugged, though, and has continued his wandering like some kind of urban zombie.

Which was how he’d found the coffee shop.

He’d seen the light on from a block away and approached it curiously. The sign outside advertised “24 hour cafe!” and he had found himself pushing open the door and walking up to the counter. He was a fan of coffee, even though coffee was not a fan of him. It took the exhaustion off, if only for a bit, and he tended to drink probably much more of it than he should. He ordered a black coffee (as always) and left despite the odd urge to stay in the cozy, well-lit building.

And then the next night he came in again. And the next. It started feeling like a safe haven, some other universe where the lights were always on and there were  _ other people _ awake at the ass-crack of dawn and they would sort of smile at you, even if it was just because you’re a customer.

At least, it  _ was  _ a safe haven. 

Until Chan walked in on the fourth night in a row and saw a Very Beautiful Man standing at the register and almost choked on his own spit, accidentally concerning the Beautiful Man, probably because it looked like he was about to fall over on the spot. Which, to be fair, he was.

To make matters worse, Beautiful Man apparently  _ recognized  _ Chan, and knew his order, and Chan had to try not to propose on the spot. He’s glad he didn’t, because he then proceeded to drop his change all over the floor and be an idiot and almost forget his own name when Very Beautiful Man asked for it. He had to try to not sprint for the door the moment he got his coffee, because ultimately Chan is as Disaster Gay as it gets, and also he’s running on about 6 hours of sleep combined in the last four days, and also is probably the last person in the world who should be having caffeine, like, ever.

The rational part of him tells him that the most logical route is to change his name and move to Siberia, and he’s inclined to agree. But Chan is also a weak man, and his reasoning is always a little hampered by exhaustion.

Friday, he still doesn’t manage to get any sleep during the day. And he has a project to finish. So at 3 AM, he catches himself picking up his laptop and setting off on the now-familiar route to the coffee shop. 

He tells himself that it’s not  _ entirely _ because he’s a raging homosexual. He has work to do, and he  _ does  _ like the coffee. 

Also, it’s 3 AM. This seems to be playing a factor in his life more often than it should.

He pushes the door open, almost scared to look at whoever’s manning the counter. Sure enough though, there he is again, blonde hair rumpled and brown eyes soft as ever. He smiles--actually smiles--when he sees Chan walk in, and Chan feels his heart do a little backflip.

“One black coffee,” he manages to say without choking. A victory in and of itself.

Very Beautiful Man nods with another soft grin, and turns to pour the drink. Chan starts pulling money from his pockets  _ very carefully,  _ determined not to have a similar episode, and manages to successfully pay for his drink without any more tragic disasters.

Instead of leaving immediately with the drink like he had the previous four nights, this time he settles himself at a table and opens his laptop, taking out his headphones. He’s been trying to get this track right for a week. It’s harder to mix on his laptop, but it also feels like a break from the confines of a studio, so he welcomes the change of scenery. The coffee shop is cozy, anyway, and the seat is comfortable, so he quickly gets into work mode.

About a half hour later, there is sudden movement in Chan’s peripheral vision and he flinches, probably much more violently than necessary. (One of the many negative side effects of hypersensitivity.) He pulls off his headphones, staring at the slice of lemon cake that was just placed on his table, then follows the hand to an arm up to the apologetic face of Very Beautiful Man.

“Sorry,” he’s in the middle of saying. “I didn’t mean to scare you--I just--”

“I didn’t… order that,” Chan says, confused. Very Beautiful Man blushes a little bit. (Which, by the way,  _ wow _ .)

“I know,” he says, looking down at his shoes. “Just… you shouldn’t have caffeine on an empty stomach. It’s on the house.”

“Oh,” Chan says a little stupidly before he processes his words. “Oh, wait, you don’t have to do that.” He is kind of starving, but he doesn’t want to take a stranger’s charity just because he probably looks like a member of the undead.

“I know,” Very Beautiful Man says simply. He pauses, then asks, “Can I sit here?” gesturing towards another chair. Chan nods.

“My shift’s about to end,” the man says. “I’m Kim Woojin.”

“Bang Chan,” Chan replies with a small smile that’s trying very hard to push down a scream. 

“What are you working on?” Woojin asks, actually looking interested in what Chan has to say.

Chan gulps. “This track… I do music production. Sort of. I’m trying to do music production. Is. Probably the better thing to say.”

“That’s really cool!” Woojin says, his eyes lighting up as Chan shows him part of his screen with different tracks open. “How’s it going then?”

“I’ve been working on this specific song for a week,” Chan admits, rubbing his temple. “I think it’s almost done, though, and then I’ll just get my friend to record his stuff over it and it’ll be… done, I guess.”

“Your friend sings?” Woojin asks, then purposefully pushes the slice of cake toward Chan and hands him a fork. Chan laughs nervously, slicing off a piece.

“Uh, raps, actually,” he says before taking a bite.

“Oh, that’s cool! Do you go to university here?”

“Yeah, my friend too.”

“I’m a vocal performance major!”

“Wait, really? That’s so--wow. I sing some, for track guides, but not, like,  _ well. _ ”

“I’m sure you’re great,” Woojin says with a smile, and that’s it, Chan is a goner.

They stay there talking long after Woojin’s shift is over. Chan really should probably be working on the track, he knows, but talking to Woojin has left him more relaxed than he’s been in a long time. So much so that he almost drifts off during a comfortable lull in conversation, which is horrifyingly embarrassing. Woojin just laughs it off.

“I should probably get going,” Woojin says, looking at his watch. It’s almost 5 AM. Chan is pretty sure his shift ended at 4. The other guy that was working here traded out with two new baristas around then. 

“Oh, yeah, of course, I’m so sorry,” Chan says, blushing. He can’t believe he rambled on for this long. “Me too.”

“Ok,” Woojin says, standing up. “It was really nice to properly meet you,” he says, and Chan gulps.

“Yeah! Same.” He scratches the back of his head nervously. “Uh, see you tomorrow, probably?” 

“Actually, I don’t work Saturdays. Or Wednesdays. Maybe Sunday, though!”

“Oh, ok,” Chan says. “Maybe then!”

Chan doesn’t bother to come in Saturday.

  
  


**WOOJIN**

 

Chan  _ does _ come back on Sunday. And then every day for a week. Most of the time, he’ll just work on his computer, either typing away aggressively or listening to the same snippet of audio 50 times while scowling. But sometimes when there’s no other customers, Woojin will sort of wander over and sit down and they’ll end up talking. It’s usually about music--they like a lot of the same artists, and Chan teasingly asks Woojin to sing for him a couple times, to which Woojin blushes and waves him off with a ‘ _ Maybe later’ _ . Woojin always seems to end up staying at least half an hour after his shift ends, just to talk.

“So, wait,” he says one day. (Night. Morning. Whatever.) “I know why _ I’m _ here almost every day at 2 AM, cause I get paid to, but why are you?”

Chan takes a long sip of his coffee, then grimaces. “Ah. Well.”

“You  _ do  _ sleep sometimes, right?” Woojin jokes. He’s always wondered but never asked, assuming Chan just had night classes and probably napped during the day like any (un)healthy college student. 

Chan doesn’t answer right away, just stares at his drink with an odd expression, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. Woojin frowns. “Right?” he asks again.

“Sometimes,” Chan says, running his hands through his hair with a sigh.

“What does that mean?” Woojin asks, teasing tone gone from his voice.

Chan smiles wryly. “Well, I’ve got pretty severe insomnia, actually. That’s how I ended up here in the first place, duh. Sleeping is not something I’m… good at.”

“But you’ve got to--sometimes?”

“Oh, sure, sometimes!” Chan assures with a vigorous nod. “I average about… 3 hours a day, I’d say? Not all at one time. I can’t really fall asleep, and when I fall asleep I don’t stay asleep.”

Woojin stares at him.

Chan shrugs. “Life’s a bitch. Sometimes there are better stretches, or worse ones.”

“Has--has it  _ always  _ been like that? That sounds awful.”

“Not always,” Chan says. He looks like he’s picking his words carefully, and won’t look Woojin in the eye. “Since I was 12. Something ha-- That’s when it started. It got worse, then it got better, then it got worse again. Just… one of those things, I guess.”

“Will it ever go away?” Woojin asks, trying not to look as concerned as he feels.

“ _ No known cure, _ ” Chan says dramatically, probably quoting a doctor, by his mocking tone. “It’s fine. I live with it.”

Looking at Chan’s undersized physique and exhausted eyes, Woojin is not sure that he  _ is  _ living with it. There’s a difference between living and surviving, and Chan seems to be operating solely via the latter.

But Woojin doesn’t push it, just nods and squeezes Chan’s hand. “Well, if there’s ever anything I can do to help, let me know,” he vows with as much sincerity as he can inject into his tone. 

Chan smiles softly at him. It’s more beautiful than it has any right to be. Woojin pushes 

that thought away.

-

A few days later, Chan is working intensely on a track, and Woojin is leaning lazily against the counter, sort-of-not-totally watching the silver haired boy work and waiting frustratedly for his shift to end. 

The door chimes, and Woojin straightens up, turning to smile at the boy coming in. He looks a few years younger than Woojin, with chubby cheeks and a smile way too bright for 2 AM.

“Hi, caramel latte please?” he asks distractedly, pulling his wallet out. Woojin starts to tell him the price, but is interrupted by Felix behind him.

“Jisung!”

Woojin blinks as Felix  _ vaults  _ over the counter to tackle the squirrel-like boy in an aggressive embrace. The boy--Jisung?--reciprocates with similar enthusiasm, laughing good-naturedly as the blonde cheerfully strangles him. Woojin looks on with a confused smile.

“Uh--friend of yours?” he asks Felix when he finally lets go. Felix grins.

“Oh yeah, Woojin-hyung, this is Jisung. We met when I first moved here.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says to Jisung. “You still want that latte--”

“Yeah, sorry,” Jisung says, handing over the cash and turning back to Felix. The two start chatting in English and Woojin tunes it out, turning to make the drink with a small smile. He likes seeing the younger boy with his other friends--he knows it’s been hard for him.

He snaps back to reality when he hears Jisung’s voice go, “Chan? Is that you?”

Surprised, Woojin turns and sees Chan look up like a deer caught in the headlights at Jisung’s friendly call. The silver-haired boy remains frozen for a moment, then relaxes into an easy smile. “Jisung-ah! What are you doing here?”

“This is Felix!” Jisung says, pointing to the blonde, who waves awkwardly. “I’ve got a big project I’ve been working on. Pulling an all-nighter. You too?”

Chan hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Jisung’s easy-going expression shifts slightly. 

“Hey, I thought you were sleeping better.” He walks a little closer to Chan and lowers his voice slightly, but as he’s the only one talking in the room, Woojin can hear him clearly. He turns awkwardly, trying to remove himself from the conversation, but it’s kind of impossible.

“I am!” he hears Chan protest softly, and Woojin looks down with a small frown at the obvious lie.

“You don’t look well,” Jisung says lowly.

“Hyung!” Woojin looks up, startled, to see Chan looking at him with determination. “You’ve met my friend Jisung?”

Woojin blinks. “Um, yeah, just now.” 

“Jisung’s been my friend since we were in high school,” Chan says with a forced smile, clapping Jisung on the back. Jisung smiles tightly, clearly aware of the subject change but unwilling to press it. “Jisung-ah, this is Woojin-hyung.”

“Yeah, we established that we’ve met,” Jisung says with a soft smile. It’s awkward, but Jisung pushes through it. He seems to have a knack for that. “Well, Chan, have you met Felix?”

“Oh,  _ this  _ is the Felix you were telling me about? Hey, mate, nice to meet you.”

Woojin continues wiping down the counter as Felix joins the conversation. He hears the tone shift from tense awkwardness to easier laughter, and relaxes as it does. 

Jisung said that he’d thought that Chan’s insomnia had gotten better. Woojin can’t quite wrap his head around all the implications of it, but it further cements the thought that’s been niggling at the back of his mind for a week; that Chan is not completely okay.

He’s distracted from this when they call him over to join the conversation, and tries to push those worries to the back of his mind. Jisung is certainly a sunny presence. He sees why he and Felix get along so well--they’re two peas in a pod, and always laugh louder than anyone else at each other’s corny jokes. It’s enough to make Chan giggle, which makes Woojin laugh too. Chan has an infectious laugh. His cheeks dimple and his eyes close, face splitting in mirth, and the sight of it steals Woojin’s breath a little.

He decides not to think too much on what that might mean.

Also, Jisung and Chan  _ really _ know each other. Woojin learns quickly that Chan was a nerdy kid, at least from Jisung’s perspective, fidgety and excitable but very kind.

“Anxious,” Chan corrects with a laugh. “I was an  _ anxious _ child.”

“Grown-ups called it ‘polite,’” Jisung recalls with a snort.

“I was polite too!”

“No, you were just sca--never mind.” Jisung shoots Chan a look that makes Chan snort, though Jisung doesn’t look as light-hearted as previously.

“No, it’s true,” the silver-haired boy murmurs to his friend with an easy smile that Jisung returns hesitantly. Woojin looks between the two of them, a little confused, but brushes it off.

“So, Woojin-ssi--hyung? Can I call you hyung?” Woojin nods. “Hyung. You go to university here too?”

“Yeah. I’m a vocal major.”

Jisung raises his eyebrows. “Oh, really? I do some singing too, but mostly rapping.”

“He’s done a few vocal tracks for me. He’s good,” Chan puts in before taking a long sip of his drink. 

Jisung shrugs modestly, then his eyes light up. “Ah, Woojin-hyung, you should sometime too! You’d be perfect for that one track--you know the one I mean, Chan? With the piano?”

Chan freezes, a blush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, I was… I was gonna ask him to do that, actually,” he says, avoiding eye contact and scratching at the back of his neck.

“Wait. What? Really?” Woojin asks in shock as he processes what’s going on. He lets out a slightly shocked laugh. “You haven’t even heard me sing, what if I’m awful?”

“I doubt that,” Chan says dryly. “You--you don’t have to! Obviously. If you don’t want to. But if that’s chill--”

“I’d love to,” Woojin says, cutting him off as he feels his eyes crinkle into a smile. “Seriously.”

“Okay,” Chan says, looking back down at the table and releasing a shaky breath. “Cool. I’ll--I’ll let you know when that will be.”

“Cool,” Woojin echoes, endeared by the younger boy’s shyness.

Their conversation continues until the sky begins to lighten. Woojin quickly decides he likes Jisung. The younger boy has an infectious laugh and a bright personality. He and Chan talk and trade insults easily--they’re clearly very comfortable with each other, though Chan does seem to be behaving a little differently than normal. Almost tense.

At about 4 AM, Felix says, “Jisung, do you have to finish your project?”

Jisung waves him off. “No, I was already pretty much done when I came in, was just gonna get some coffee to keep me alive for a few more hours. Actually--Woojin hyung--can I order one more before I go?”

Woojin’s shift technically ended 5 minutes ago, but he doesn’t mind, scraping his chair back and walking back to the counter. “Same thing as before?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Jisung says, resting his elbows on the counter and squishing his cheeks between his hands. “So how long have you worked here?”

“Uh--about two months,” Woojin says distractedly.

“And how long has Chan been coming in?”

“A-” Woojin cuts himself off, remembering that Chan had lied to Jisung about his sleeping habits and briefly considers backing him up. But he has a feeling Jisung and Woojin’s concern lies in the same realm, so he turns to the younger boy and says gently, “A little over a week.”

Jisung’s jaw tightens. “During… this time, always?”

Woojin nods slowly. “He told me he had insomnia.”

“Is that all he told you?”

Woojin furrows his brow. “There’s more to tell?”

Over Woojin’s shoulder, he can see Chan glance over at them curiously, but Felix is still speaking to him animatedly, so Woojin’s sure he can’t hear their hushed conversation. He feels a pang of guilt run through his chest at the silver-haired boy’s glance.

“I mean… Yeah. It’s not my place to tell.” Jisung runs his hand through his hair with a sigh that seems far beyond his years. “I thought it had gotten better. He told me it had. I mean. It  _ did  _ for a bit. I guess I was just really hoping it had stayed that way.”

Woojin hums thoughtfully. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, you’re already doing good.” The corner of Jisung’s mouth twitches up. “He’s really comfortable around you, you know that?”

Woojin shrugs, hoping he’s not blushing. “We’re friends.”

“Sure. You met ‘a little over a week’ ago.”

Okay,  _ now _ he’s blushing. “Fast friends.”

“Okay. But he isn’t… chill like that around just anyone.” Jisung takes his coffee and grins fully, showing cute front teeth. “He’s soft for you.”

Woojin’s face is bright red as he returns to their table.

 

**CHAN**

 

They were talking about him. He’s sure of it. But Jisung left before he could grill the kid, and the  _ last  _ thing he wants to do is accuse Woojin of anything. Plus, Woojin didn’t initiate anything. It’s Jisung that’s too protective. He loves the boy, seriously, but Chan can handle himself. He’s not 16 anymore.

Chan goes home eventually, sits down at his computer with a sigh, and resigns himself to working on this track for the next few hours. It’s a song he’s actually pretty proud of, which is a rare occurrence, but it’s still not done yet. That always seems to be the problem. Nothing is ever as good as he knows he could make it if he just got it  _ right,  _ but it’s not  _ right.  _ So he puts his headphones on and settles in for several more hours of no sleep.

The next day is Sunday, so again at 2 AM Chan walks to the coffee shop, more nervous than he’s been since the first night after he’d made a complete fool of himself. His hands are shaking so much he nearly drops his laptop twice, and he hasn’t even had any caffeine yet.

When he gets in, Felix greets him from the register with a bright smile. Chan remembers to return it before looking around obviously for Woojin, who is wiping down tables. Chan orders his coffee, then goes to his normal spot. As usual, there is no one else in the cafe, and he sets down the laptop and takes a deep breath before opening it.

“Hey, Chan!”

Chan smiles up at Woojin, but it probably looks more like a pained grimace. “Hey.”

Woojin sits down. “You good?”

“Yeah.” Chan opens his laptop and stares at it blankly for a second. “I, uh, finished that track. Or at least got as close to finishing it as I’m gonna get.”

“Oh, cool!” Woojin smiles at him. He looks like a puppy. An adorable human puppy. 

“... Can I hear it?”

Chan jumps in his seat a little. “Oh! Yeah. Yeah. I guess. God. Okay. Yeah. Here.”

He checks the volume, then hands the headphones to Woojin, grits his teeth, and hits play on the track, watching Woojin nervously for any sign of reaction. Chan had recorded the vocal guide for it over the piano instrumental, and to say he’s insecure about this is an understatement.

Woojin just stares at the table as the track begins to play, a smile slowly curving on his lips as he starts nodding his head gently to the beat. Chan chews anxiously on his lip, but Woojin at least doesn’t seem to hate it, so that’s… something. After what feels like the llongest 3 minutes of his life, the track ends, and Woojin breaks into a full grin as he takes the headphones off and looks up.

“What did you think?” Chan asks, trying not to show how anxious he feels.

“Channie, it’s really good. Is that you singing?”

Chan tries not to die at  _ ‘Channie.’  _ “Um--yeah. It’s just for the guide track, not anything serious, obviously, sorry--”

“No--you’re really talented! Are you kidding? What do you need me for?”

Chan is sure his face is bright red, but he can’t hold back a grin. “Shut up.”

“Yah, seriously!” Woojin smacks his shoulder lightly. “I love this. The chorus is so pretty. Were you playing that piano too?”

If it’s physically possible for Chan to blush deeper, he does. “Yeah.”

Woojin whistles lowly. “A man of many talents.”

“Ah, c’mon, hyung,” Chan whines, sinking down in his seat, and Woojin laughs. It’s light and airy and Chan thinks,  _ Springtime.  _ Then he thinks,  _ Shut the fuck up, you gay idiot. _

“So… D’you think you might want to sing on it? Do the vocal track I mean?” Chan asks, avoiding Woojin’s gaze. Which is why he misses seeing the intense  _ fondness  _ in his eyes as the blonde boy says, “I’d love to.”

Chan snaps his head up. “Really? Ok cool! I can send you the lyrics, and you can listen to it as many times as you need to get the melody… That’s finalized, I’ll probably change the production on the track a bit after we record you but that won’t affect the key or tempo or anything so you don’t have to worry about that…” He trails off, realising he’s rambling, but Woojin doesn’t look deterred.

“Sounds good! When would we record?” Woojin asks.

Chan chews on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “Hm… Maybe this coming weekend? Or it can be whenever, really. Maybe Friday night actually? Since you don’t work Saturday? Nights are usually best for studio availability.”

“Ok, awesome!” Woojin says. And he really does look excited. “Here, what’s your number? I’ll text you and then you can text me the lyrics.”

Chan stutters as he rattles it off, his heart racing as Woojin types on his phone for a minute before setting it down and looking back at Chan with his trademark disarming smile. Chan feels his phone buzz, but avoids picking it up, opting to keep his gaze focused on Woojin, which is easier said than done.

“Thanks for doing this,” he says, pulling up the lyrics in another tab on his laptop for the time being. “Do you want to… try it now? Just for kicks?”

What he won’t admit, but is trying to say, is that he’s desperate to hear Woojin’s singing voice. The older boy had still never sung in front of him, has laughed off any half-hearted requests to do so, but Chan gets the impression he’s actually shy. Or very humble. What Chan is really hoping he’s  _ not  _ is bad, as that would be really awkward.

“Uh, sure!” Woojin agrees. Chan’s almost surprised.

“Ok, um, do you need to listen to the track again or… ?”

“Sure,” Woojin repeats, replacing the earphones on his head as Chan fumbles with the keypad. His heart is racing still and he’s not quite sure why, but it’s not altogether unpleasant so he doesn’t pay it much mind as he hits play again. This time, Woojin hums as the track plays, surprisingly accurate for having only heard it once, and when it finishes, the blonde boy switches tabs back to the lyrics and starts singing slowly through the first verse, headphones around his neck, the picture of professionalism.

Chan’s breath gets caught in his throat. Woojin’s voice is good--more than good, it’s  _ great,  _ pitch unwavering and breath steady. Beyond that, his voice is like honey, warm and gorgeous and strong. It’s disconcerting to hear something that beautiful following a melody line that  _ he _ wrote. His eyes glaze over a little bit as he gets caught up in the music, and he doesn’t really notice that Woojin’s finished a first run through until he clears his throat and takes the headphones off.

“That… That was so good,” Chan says, looking down as he feels a blush climb to his cheeks. 

Woojin laughs nervously. “Ah, no,” he protests, “my voice cracked on the second chorus and--well. Thank you.”

“Here,” Chan says, scooting his seat closer to Woojin’s and ignoring the way his heart rate increases. “I’ll show you where we’re gonna put harmonies, too.”

For the next 30 minutes, they go through the song, Chan pausing and pointing out production elements that Woojin takes note of, and just letting Woojin learn the melody. Eventually, Chan unplugs the headphones--there’s no one else in the cafe, and Felix doesn’t care if they’re a little loud--and mutes the vocal track so Woojin can just sing along to the instrumental. 

Chan is leaned forward towards the computer, sort of against Woojin’s shoulder, and Woojin’s voice is so soft with the piano in the background, and Chan is warm and just very  _ tired.  _ Lack of sleep makes him dysfunctional, and he chalks it up to that as he feels himself nestling fully into Woojin’s side as if on autopilot, still looking at the computer screen. He feels the older boy tense up slightly, then relax as he backs the track up to sing it through from the beginning.

Chan’s eyes droop shut before they even reach the first chorus.

-

He wakes up to Felix’s loud laughter. His first instinct is to grumble at the younger boy, but his throat is too dry to even make a sound and he frowns, smacking his lips, shifting a bit on whatever comfortable sweet-smelling pillow he’s lying against and resolving to fall back asleep.

Except that, wait, there was no pillow, and why is Felix in his apartment? More striking than that, he was actually _asleep._ Properly. And he didn’t wake up to nightmares or to his heart racing or to him curled up and shaking in a too-empty room. So where is he?

He pries his eyes open and remembers everything very all of a sudden. He is in the cafe. He was here to see Woojin, to play him the song.  _ Woojin. _

Which means that this soft, sweet-smelling pillow is in fact not a pillow at all, but a Very Beautiful Man who is currently smiling down on Chan’s Stupid Gay Face with a look of endearment that borderline sets of Chan’s fight or flight response, because  _ fuck,  _ he wasn’t  _ trained  _ for this, how is he supposed to  _ deal  _ with that?

He pushes himself back into a seating position, face already bright red. “Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean to--I haven’t gotten much sleep--sorry, I guess I was just really tired--fuck--”

“You’re fine,” Woojin says, grabbing his hand ( _ HOLY SHIT _ ) and squeezing it with a soft smile. “I’m glad you got some sleep!”

“I--how long was I asleep?” He registers that Felix is still laughing, and sends the younger boy standing at the counter the nastiest look he can muster, but it only makes the blonde laugh harder.

“Not long? 45 minutes or so.”

“ _ 45 minutes _ ?”

“Is that a lot?”

“On a couch in a cafe? At  _ night _ ? Yes??”

“Well. You needed the rest. And anyway, I learned the song,” Woojin says. Chan notices that the headphones are plugged back in. Woojin had been trying not to wake Chan up. 

Suddenly Chan’s chest feels very funny, sort of like maybe all his bones are pressing very hard on all his internal organs. He registers that now his clothes smell like Woojin, and also that Woojin is still very close, and also that he really wants to kiss him kind of a little bit a lot, and oh. 

Oh. 

He’s stupid. He’s very stupid. He’s very gay and very stupid.

“I have to--I have to go,” Chan says in a strained voice, jumping up and grabbing his laptop. Startled, Woojin hands him his headphones, which Chan takes without making eye contact. He can’t  _ believe  _ he’s been this  _ stupid.  _

“Are you okay?” Woojin asks. The concern in his voice is like a slap in the face.

“Yeah,” Chan says, still staring at his shoes. “I have--a class. I’m sorry. I’ll--text you.”

He’s already out the door before he gets the chance to hear Woojin calling after him.

It’s, like, 5 AM. There’s barely anyone out, but he gets a few weird looks from some dog walkers-- _ ok, but who’s the weird one for walking your dog this early, you fuckers-- _ as he all but sprints the way back to his apartment building, leaning against his door as soon as he closes it and sliding into a seated position on the ground.

Hasn’t he fallen in love with enough straight boys in his life to  _ know  _ not to get his hopes up by now? Just because Woojin happens to have masculinity a little more durable than a tea cup doesn’t mean he’s interested, in Chan or in guys, period. He’s fucked up. He’s fucked up massively. He’s not sure exactly how, but he knows he has.

Chan’s scared himself. He felt too safe back there. Had Felix not been behaving like an annoying shit, Chan can tell that he would have easily slept longer. 

He throws off the jacket that still smells like Woojin and kicks it away from him, realising that he is crying and that he probably has been for a while, and that he hasn’t been able to comfortably sleep in the presence of anyone other than Changbin and Jisung for 7 years. But now he’s gone and fucked up and let himself get too attached again, and nothing good has ever come from this and it never will. And he’s still so, so tired.

He does not stop crying for a long time. He does not fall back asleep.

  
  


**WOOJIN**

 

Chan doesn’t return to the cafe for three consecutive days. Woojin even comes in on his off day as a customer, and sits there for a while as the Wednesday morning employee, Hyunjin, looks at him knowingly with a little too much pity in his gaze. Woojin nurses his caramel latte for two hours before giving up and sending Chan a text:  _ hey! it’s woojin. how are you? _

He regrets it as soon as he hits send. Chan doesn’t respond. It’s probably for the best.

Woojin usually doesn’t get much sleep (or at least not as much as he probably  _ should _ ), but over those couple days he gets even less than normal. On Tuesday, Felix had asked why Chan wasn’t coming in, and Woojin had sullenly replied that he had no idea. Felix looked a little concerned, but didn’t press, which Woojin is grateful for. 

He’s trying not to be mad, but he doesn’t know how else to feel. What did he do wrong? Was his singing bad? Did Chan think he was weird? He does his best to tamp down the frustration in his chest, especially as it’s intermingled with a much odder emotion, and chooses instead to ignore the matter as best as he can. Which is not very well.

Thursday, Woojin spends the first hour of his shift leaning boredly at the counter, picking at his chapped lips and staring into space. At 2 AM, though, the bell rings, announcing the door’s opened, and Woojin straightens with a start, preparing to greet the customer.

Bang Chan walks through the door, wearing another ridiculously oversized hoodie. 

He looks… awful. Worse than usual. Sure, his face is still handsome as ever, but he looks like he’s been through hell and back. His hair is rumpled up on one side and greasy, his face an almost sickly pallor, the bags under his eyes even more prominent than normal. Even underneath the huge hoodie, he looks skinnier in only a matter of days, and any frustration Woojin was harboring melts away in a split second.

“Chan!” he says, quietly but brightly. “Are you ok? Where have you been?”

Chan bites his lip. Even beyond his physical state, he looks altogether miserable. The sight tightens something deep in Woojin’s chest, and he finds himself walking out from around the counter and leading Chan to their usual couch. Chan follows a little dumbly, sitting down when Woojin pats the spot next to him, all the while avoiding eye contact with the older boy.

“Chan,” Woojin repeats. “Are you okay?”

Chan nods. He seems to have found some fascination with his shoes. 

“You don’t look okay,” Woojin says softly, hoping he’s not overstepping. Chan just sighs.

“Just… Haven’t been sleeping well,” he says, voice even rougher than usual. “Or worse than normal, I should say.”

Woojin remains silent for a few moments, then cautiously grabs Chan’s hand, interlacing their fingers and squeezing the same way he did on Sunday. Chan hesitantly squeezes back, still staring at the floor as a blush creeps up his neck. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Woojin asks. “And I’m  _ not _ going to sell you a coffee.”

“That’s okay, you--yeah. I probably wasn’t going to buy one anyway.”

_ But you’re still here,  _ Woojin thinks, and squeezes his hand again. Chan hasn’t made any effort to let go, so Woojin won’t either.

“I just wanted to ask--if you’re still down to record tomorrow? I’m sorry I didn’t text you back. Just. Busy, I guess. But if you’re still free--we could go record and then get dinner afterwards or something?” Woojin can’t tell if that’s his palm sweating or Chan’s. “There’s never any good food at the studio. So.”

“Ok,” Woojin says with a smile. “Sounds good.”

Chan visibly untenses, his shoulders slumping forward as he exhales. Woojin’s breath catches at the sight. “Ok. Ok. I’ll--I’ll text you, tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Woojin says, biting his lip with a small grin. “You just gonna hang out here?”

“I was--yeah--I can leave though, if you want me to--”

“No, stay! I was just asking. It’s really slow, I kind of doubt anyone else will be in here, and Felix is working anyway. So.”  _ I can stay, too,  _ is the unspoken understanding between them, and Chan nods tightly. It looks like there’s something he’s struggling to say, so Woojin takes a wild guess and says it for him.

“Do you want to try to… take a nap or something?”

Chan nods, a little lost, and leans against Woojin’s side almost automatically even though it’s only the second time he’s done so. Woojin moves his arm to make way for Chan’s cuddly body and ends up draping it around the other boy’s shoulders, whose eyes slide shut almost immediately. He’s clearly exhausted, and Woojin looks down at him with exasperated fondness.  _ Please take better care of yourself,  _ he thinks, looking at the younger boy and hesitantly carding his fingers through silver hair.  _ I need you to be okay.  _

And  _ wait _ , whoa, where did that come from? 

But even as he thinks that, he realises it’s entirely true. Woojin has never been the dramatic type. He has his revelations slowly, instead of all at once, and tries not to let such moments change the way he lives his life. Realising that he wants Bang Chan to always be okay and happy was like that. He’d had a toe in the water, then an ankle, then a knee and so forth, and had found himself all the way used to it--to caring about Chan ( _ so much that it hurt _ )--before he’d even realised he’d begun the process. 

But now he was here, shifting Chan’s drowsy form into his lap. Chan was warm, and soft, and comfortable, and Woojin was immensely relieved to see that his breathing had already evened and slowed. Woojin continues scratching small circles into Chan’s scalp, watching his chest rise and fall as Woojin leans his head back on the couch and allows his own eyes to drift shut. 

(Felix casts the both of them a quick glare for leaving him to pick up a shift meant for two people on his own, but the scene was too cute to remain angry for long. He woke them three hours later, before he left, and a slightly more rested Chan gave a blushing apology that Felix waved off with a wink. It didn’t seem to make him blush any less.)

  
  


**CHAN**

 

[Chan had fully had no intention of returning to the cafe. He was sure that he was going to keel over from the pain of it, but he sure as hell couldn’t go back. He had managed to swiftly convince himself that Woojin in fact, completely hated him now, and after the first two nights of not showing up he decided that He Might As Well Die. He could clearly see that it had been affecting him--he was now getting almost no sleep where before he got very little, he was eating less, and his anxiety was at an all time high. Jisung had noticed, and had asked him what was wrong, and he’d spouted some bullshit excuse about how school was a little harder lately. He could tell that he hadn’t convinced anyone, but he’d been too tired to care. 

Above all, he had just missed seeing Woojin.

So when Jisung had texted him that  _ hey, why did felix just text me that ur googly eye buddy is sad because ur not going to his cafe? _ and Chan had responded  _ what googly eye buddy _ knowing full well who Jisung meant, and Jisung had replied  _ woojin ur teddy bear uwuwuwuwu _ and then  _ but actually. go see him. whats wrong with you, _ Chan had been more than a little taken aback. And relieved. And terrified. And furious with himself.

So, somehow, he’d managed to force himself out of the house and down the now very familiar blocks, had pushed open the door but almost turned tail and ran when he saw Woojin manning the register. Woojin had seemed to instantly know what Chan needed and Chan thought he had never been so grateful that a human being was born. 

He’d stumbled through the proposition for Friday, relieved beyond words when Woojin agreed easily, then froze up. Somehow Woojin understood that without Chan saying anything, and Chan had almost cried with happiness when the blonde boy let Chan snuggle into his side and close his eyes. He’d felt himself drifting into unconsciousness faster than he could ever remember doing, and wondered briefly before he went completely if Woojin knew quite how important he was.]

-

Chan had texted Woojin his address and told him to meet him there at 9:30. The studio is on campus with no nearby parking, but just a five minute walk from Chan’s apartment, so it’s practical. Really. Chan still feels a little weird about it, though, so at 9:25 he goes down to stand outside, fiddling nervously with the stickers on his phone case.

He spaces out, so he doesn’t notice Woojin’s walked up till he’s standing right in front of him, causing him to look up with a start. He forgets how to breathe momentarily. He usually just sees Woojin in a white button down and an apron--which is quite dashing, don’t get him wrong--but Woojin in regular clothes is just. Wow.  _ Chan, please get your shit together. _

“Hi,” he says nervously, putting his phone in his pocket.

“Hey.”

The walk to the studio begins awkwardly, but quickly relaxes into easy banter, mostly led by Chan rambling and Woojin laughing at Chan’s rambles. Talking to Woojin outside of the environment of the cafe is different, but Chan quickly finds that he enjoys it just as much, if not more. They arrive at the studio shortly, and Chan pushes open the door to find a short, dark-haired boy already sitting in front of the monitor.

“Changbin-ah!” Chan says, definitely too loudly, and the younger boy turns around, startled, before breaking into a reluctant grin.

“Hey, hyung,” he says, standing up and stretching before catching sight of Woojin standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Who’s this?”

“Be polite,” Chan says reproachfully. “Changbin, this is Woojin-hyung. He’s doing the vocals today.”

Changbin straightens up from a bow towards Woojin, then says, “Oh, cool--the track you sent me last week?” Chan nods in confirmation, and Changbin sits back down.

“Woojin-ssi, have you ever sung in a studio before?” he asks, setting up the tracks on his computer.

Woojin nods slowly, then says, “A few times, yeah.”

“Great!” Changbin says, tongue poking out from between his teeth as he concentrates. “You guys want to get started right away? You warmed up?”

Chan shrugs, turning to look at Woojin, who seems a little disoriented. “Are you good to sing now?” Chan prompts, realising that Changbin’s business attitude is probably a little disconcerting to anyone that doesn’t know him well.

“Sure,” Woojin replies, looking relieved, and Chan leads him into the recording booth and sets up the mic for him.

“We’ll be talking in there,” he coaches, “and you’ll hear it through these.” He hands him a pair of clunky headphones.

“I  _ have  _ done this before,” Woojin reminds him with a grin, and Chan reddens. 

“Right. Okay. You good, then?”

Woojin nods, giving him a thumbs up and turning to the mic, and Chan exits the booth, collapsing onto a chair next to Changbin.

“Ready?” the dark haired boy asks, and Woojin nods. “We’ll just do a short test run through, to get the levels right and for you to get a feel for how you’ll hear the audio in there. Good?”

“Good,” Woojin says, voice a little more resonant through the speaker, and Changbin hits play on the track.

-

Recording goes smoothly. Woojin requires minimal instruction, and most of the retakes have to do with different mixing effects Chan or Changbin want to try, or just getting doubles of the track. By the end, Chan can tell that this will probably end up being his favorite song he’s ever fully produced. Woojin was definitely the right choice--he has a tender quality to his voice without being breathy or weak, and it’s perfect for the vulnerably hopeful lyrics.

Changbin takes off as soon as they’re done--probably to hang out with his _boyfriend_ (some guy Chan hasn’t met yet named Seungmin), Chan thinks with a grin, though he doesn’t tease him about it. (He’s afraid of what Changbin might say to get back at him.) Woojin helps Chan put everything in the studio back how it was--the only reason they’re allowed to use these is provided they keep them tidy--and they step outside. Chan forgets where he is for a second as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of the nighttime air. 

For a second, he doesn’t feel quite so tired. Just happy. Making music usually does that for him. 

(So does hanging out with Woojin.)

“You better still be buying us some food.” 

His eyes blink open in surprise and land on the boy in question, who is looking at him with a soft sort of fondness. He stutters out an agreement, scratches his neck embarrassedly, and after a moment of indecision, beckons Woojin to follow him as he sets off across campus. After a couple minutes of comfortable silence, he slows to a halt to look purposefully at the building ahead of them.

“McDonald’s?” Woojin asks, one eyebrow tilted.

“I mean,” Chan says, hiding a grin, “it is midnight. We don’t really have the luxury of choice.”

“McDonald’s is good,” Woojin decides.

Chan orders a burger and fries. Woojin gets a fried chicken basket. There’s only one other person in the the building and he sort of looks like he’s probably suspected for murder or, like, heavy drugs, and Chan and Woojin silently sit down as far from him as possible, quickly dissolving into their usual chatter and giggles while the underpaid fast food worker bitterly half-glares at them from behind the counter.

Chan doesn’t really drink alcohol--back when he used to get hallucinations too, it made everything a thousand times worse, and even though that’s (mostly) stopped, he doesn’t feel the need to test it. But right now, he sort of feels the same way that tipsy used to--very aware of himself and the room and his surroundings, slap-happy, tongue loosened from the thrill of youth he hasn’t tasted in too long. Woojin sits across from him and laughs, soft and beautiful, and Chan feels like he could take on the world.

“Celebrity crush,” Woojin asks, pointing a stolen fry at Chan like a conductor’s baton. Chan swats it away. 

“Mm,” he says, giggly. “Hmm. Mm. Um.”

“ _ Chan, _ ” Woojin says, laughing even harder.

“I’m  _ thinking!  _ Um. Oh. I like, uh--what’shisname? Legolas. Boy. Man.” 

He realises he just reiterated a Male Crush three times in one sentence, but he feels too alive at the moment to care. Woojin doesn’t react negatively at all, and Chan’s bravery doubles.

The blonde boy just grins and says, “Thought you would have said like. Angelina Jolie. Or something.”

Chan wrinkles his nose and snorts. “Miss me with that straight shit,” he says, then registers his own stupidity and accidentally chokes on his sip of Coke, feeling it go up his nose as he crumples over the table, cackling through the discomfort. He can hear Woojin laughing too.

When he finally recovers, he sits up and wipes his mouth and asks, “You?”

Woojin cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t really get celebrity crushes.”

“Oh, wait, not fair, I choked on soda for you, pick someone.”

Woojin giggles again. “Okay… Sure, Orlando Bloom  _ is  _ pretty hot.”

Chan tries to suppress a smile but fails miserably, grinning down into his drink as he swirls the straw around the cup. “What?” Woojin asks, and Chan can hear the grin in his words too. 

“Nothing,” he mumbles cheerfully. In an effort to change the subject, and also to give his hands something to do instead of punching the air in victory like he very much  _ wants  _ to do, he checks the time.

“We’ve been loitering for 45 minutes,” he points out, hoping his blush has died down, but judging by the smug look on Woojin’s face when he finally makes eye contact with the older boy, it has most decidedly not.

“Okay,” Woojin says helpfully. 

Chan sighs. “Should we go somewhere else?” he prods.

“Okay, sure,” Woojin says. Chan has to physically restrain himself from sighing harder.

“It’s pretty late,” he adds, looking down at the table.

Woojin’s silent for a second, then says, “Well, you don’t live far from here.”

Chan smiles, and before he can lose his nerve, says, “Do you wanna go back to my apartment and watch Lord Of The Rings, then?”

 

**WOOJIN**

 

It’s like, 2 in the morning or something. They gave up on the movie marathon 15 minutes ago--they were really only watching for Legolas, anyway, and he takes far too long to show up. They’ve ended up both splayed across Chan’s bed, which is really too small for the both of them, so Chan’s legs keep bumping up against Woojin’s. Especially when he laughs really hard and his whole body curls up and he flops to the side, eyes crinkled and arms pulled in to his chest as the giggles fade. You know, especially when  _ that _ happens.

Especially when Chan finally calms down but is still in the same position, knees pulled up and lying on his side facing Woojin, curly hair slightly tousled and eyes still crinkled up by the force of his smile. Woojin realises that there is nothing more turbulent for his pulse than seeing Bang Chan smile. Also, he realises that he is staring at Chan’s nose. It’s adorable and suits him perfectly. It looks very kissable. Also, it hits Woojin like a ton of bricks that Chan’s nose looks very kissable and oh. Duh.

Woojin tends to have his revelations slowly.

Falling in love with Bang Chan happened slowly, but it definitely happened.

They’ve just been kind of staring at each other for a few minutes now, and Woojin’s breath catches in his throat for a moment, because he thinks that--maybe--but then Chan rolls onto his back, expression falling into something more despondent. Woojin’s heart drops. Has he done something wrong?

“I should probably tell you something,” Chan says, staring at the ceiling with determination in his face. Woojin pauses, nervous. “Okay,” he says at last. “You can tell me anything.”

“Okay.” Then Chan is silent for a while. “It’s not really like. A secret. I mean it is? It’s not--It’s an explanation,” he decides. “I’m explaining.” He worries at his lip. “My insomnia, I mean.”

Woojin’s eyes widen. “I--ok.” He swallows, unsure of what to say. “I’m right here.”

Chan nods, taking a shaky breath. Woojin wants to grab his hand, but worries it’d be out of line. The air suddenly feels a thousand times heavier than it did, but he wants to hear what Chan has to say. He wants Chan to always feel like he can tell him anything.

“This isn’t something I tell most people,” Chan continues.  _ He’s stalling. _ “I mean, like, only Jisung and Changbin really know, and that’s cause they were there when it happened. Was happening. But I feel like--we’re close, you know? I--I care about you,” he says, still firmly not making eye contact, “and I want you to know important things about me, right?”

“... Right,” Woojin ventures a guess, biting his tongue. “I care about you too, Chan.”

Chan takes a deep breath. “Okay. So. I told you I wasn’t always--I didn’t always have insomnia, right?” Woojin nods. “It started when I was 12. Well, the cause of it started when I was 12, but I started really having trouble sleeping when I was 13.”

This time, Woojin can’t stop himself for reaching for Chan’s hand, and is relieved when Chan immediately tightens his fingers around the older boy’s. Woojin squeezes reassuringly, waiting for Chan to continue.

“Insomnia for me isn’t… the main thing. It’s a side effect of like, the real thing. The real thing being PTSD. Or some form of it, I guess.” Chan swallows. His voice is thick when he speaks again. “Sorry. I don’t ever talk about this. I’m over it. I just… there’s part of my brain that isn’t.”

“It’s okay,” Woojin murmurs, rubbing small circles on Chan’s palm with his thumb. “You don’t have to explain everything if it’s too much.”

“No, it’s not, I  _ want  _ to, it’s like…” He breaks off, sighing frustratedly. “Emotionally, I’m past this. Mostly. Jisung and Changbin helped me and it’s been years and I’m  _ fine _ , I just hate that it’s still affecting me like this. And I don’t want you to worry. I just want to be able to explain.”

“Ok.” He moves his other hand to grab Chan’s with both of his, past the point of embarrassment.

“Ok. Ok. So. My dad was never really in the picture, right? And that’s… fine. I’m not hung up over it. He wasn’t a great dude apparently, anyway, so like… tough, or whatever. That’s fine. I wouldn’t want that around. So it was just me and my mom for a while, and that was. Fine. My mom is kind of--she’s weird. She’s got her own issues but she always treated me well enough, you know? But when I was 12, she remarried.” 

He laughs a little bitterly. “He seemed nice at first, you know? She didn’t even introduce him to me until they were engaged. That shows you how much she cared about my opinion. But I was fine with it, I was 12, he seemed cool, he had a sports car, whatever, right?”

Woojin’s stomach is made of lead. He thinks he knows where this is going. He presses his forehead against Chan’s shoulder, still massaging his palm, trying to project the lightest thoughts he can to the younger boy.

“Well. I figured out pretty quick that he had problems of his own. Namely alcoholism. And that sober him might have tolerated me, but drunk him definitely didn’t.” He pauses, clearly choosing his words carefully. “He… I don’t think he ever hit my mom, thank God.” 

Woojin squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Or if he did, she never showed it. But with me it--he would come home drunk, right? And she worked nights. And he was always nice enough to me during the day, but he would come home smelling like vodka and I’d just be in bed and he’d come in screaming about how much of a nuisance I was and--I would show her bruises and she would just tell me I must have fallen off the bed at night.”

Woojin realises that he is squeezing Chan’s hand very tightly and tries to relax his grip slightly. He feels a little dizzy.

“It started out happening not as often. Just once or twice a month or something. And then he and my mom weren’t doing too well, so she’d be out a lot and he would drink more and it was--it was  _ years  _ that they tried to make it work,  _ years  _ of her not believing me and him just--” Chan shudders. “Whatever. Either way. It got worse. I started spending nights at Jisung’s house. By then… I could never sleep. Especially not at night. But with Jisung, and Changbin too, it was okay. Better at least. When I was 16, he broke my wrist and nose.” 

Woojin can’t hold back the sharp inhale at that, and Chan chuckles mirthlessly. “You’d think my mom would have smartened up by then, right? She told me she was sick of my lies. I don’t think it helped that I’d tried to come out to her a week before. After that I basically moved in with Jisung and his parents and she decided she didn’t care.” He stays quiet for a second. “The Hans really saved my life, huh.”

“Chan,” Woojin whispers, not realising he’s been crying slightly till his voice breaks on the younger boy’s name. He’s not sure what else to say. The only thing that comes to mind seems a bit too out of the blue.

“I’m okay,” Chan whispers, squeezing his hand. “They got divorced a year ago. She messaged me about it--said she was sorry. I think he must have finally decided he hated her too.” He sighs. “I didn’t… I didn’t reply.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

Chan shifts, sniffing slightly, then turning to face Woojin at last. His eyes are impressively dry, and Woojin feels a little selfish for crying over something that’s not even his to cry over. 

“I talked a lot to Jisung and Changbin about everything. I think I’ll always still be mad it happened, but it doesn’t… fuck me up like it used to, I guess? Like I said, emotionally, I’m over it. I got mostly out of that situation 3 years ago. And when I was living with Jisung, I usually could sleep okay at least, but he’s younger than me and I turned 18 and went to college and things got bad again and I thought they wouldn’t but then I met you and you make me feel safe and just finally  _ okay  _ but I don’t want you to feel like that’s all you are to me because it’s not but I--”

“Chan,” Woojin says, cutting him off and wiping his own eyes. “You don’t have to justify anything to me. If I can be here to help, then that’s what I want to be.”

“I just--want you to know that’s not  _ all _ you are.”

“I know it’s not,” Woojin says, trying for a small smile. “I--thank you. For telling me. You should never have had to go through any of that.” There are a million other phrases on the tip of the tongue but only one of them feels right, and he’s not brave enough to voice it yet.

“Don’t let it change how you think of me, okay?” Chan says, and only now do his eyes well with tears, imploring the older boy.

“Of course not,” Woojin reassures, then with a burst of resolve, leans forward to wrap his arm around Chan’s shoulders and bury his face in his shirt. “Of course not,” he repeats, slightly muffled into the fabric. “Thank you for telling me.”

Chan doesn’t respond, just makes a strangled sort of hum. He’s shaking slightly, and Woojin shifts them so that Chan’s back is against his chest and Woojin’s chin is in Chan’s curly hair, wrapping his arms around Chan’s chest as he waits for the younger boy to relax slightly. After a few minutes, Chan grows still again, his breathing evening out. He hums softly, nestling further into Woojin’s chest, and Woojin feels his eyes drift shut as he slowly drops into unconsciousness, Chan’s hair tickling his nose.

 

**CHAN**

 

When he wakes up, for a second he thinks he’s 16 again, and that last night was particularly rough so he’s crawled into bed with Jisung again and it’s one of the rare mornings where he’ll let himself feel well-rested. But then he remembers that he’s 20 now, that he hasn’t seen Jisung for a couple days and that he’s in his own house, in his own bed. There’s another pair of arms wrapped around him and soft breath tickling his neck, but he’s warm and still heavy with sleep so he decides not to question it much. He sighs contentedly, blinking his eyes open briefly but shutting them as they’re assaulted with bright sun.

Sun. As in sunlight. As in it’s daytime. And he fell asleep… not in the daytime. And also, What The Fuck.

He forces his eyes open and remembers all the events of last night, doing the recording and then going to McDonald’s and then coming back and  _ Woojin, Woojin, Woojin,  _ and how Chan lost himself in staring at the older boy’s smiling face and decided in a split second that he didn’t like having things to hide, how Woojin was quiet and understanding and  _ cried  _ for him  _ (please don’t cry)  _ and how Chan was so close to telling him he loved him when the older boy wrapped his arms around him and just let him sleep, and how he  _ slept.  _ Like it was easy, or something.

And in the midst of all these memories is the thought  _ What time is it,  _ and he slowly sits straight up as he stares out the window. Woojin does a little sleepy groan that is outrageously cute, and Chan turns to watch him shifting, smacking his lips and blinking awake. 

“Hi,” Chan offers shyly, and Woojin gives him a sleepy smile. “G’morning.”

“What--what time is it?” Chan asks, trying to do the mental math. He spends a lot of time trying to figure out how much sleep he’s gotten (and if it’s enough that he’ll be able to at least function marginally). He must have fallen asleep around 3AM or a little before, and it’s light out now, so this has got to be at least 3 or 4 hours, which is an impressive stretch as is.

Woojin leans over to the nightstand, where he’d set his phone last night and clicks it open. “Uh--11:00.”

“ _ What _ ?”

Woojin looks at him with wide eyes, then seems to realise the impact of that. “Um. Yeah. Did you just wake up?”

Chan feels like crying from happiness. “I--yeah. That’s. I haven’t slept that long in like… years. Not without Jisung or Changbin, I mean.”

Woojin still looks a confused, and Chan knows that he doesn’t totally get what this means to him. Chan understands that. He always feels a little silly, but the fact is that insomnia is where his PTSD has affected him the most, and while a lot of people don’t think too much about sleeping, it’s been such a source of stress for him for so long that he can barely process this.

“Thank you,” he says, eyes a little unfocused as he looks out the window at the mid-morning sun.

“No need,” Woojin says with a small laugh. “I’m really glad.”

-

They develop a routine. Chan never outright asks Woojin to stay the night, but Woojin usually offers. Chan worries at first that Woojin is feeling pressured or guilted into helping Chan sleep, but Woojin reassures him quickly that that’s not the case. Of course, he can’t always, but some nights are better than none at all. 

Chan and Woojin continue to learn about each other; that Woojin has wanted to be a singer since he was 8; that Chan started writing songs in middle school and then that he, Jisung and Changbin even made a rap trio together; that Woojin’s mother died when he was young; that Chan had anxiety as a kid and he’s been told that increases one’s chances of developing PTSD as a reaction to trauma. 

They also learn that Woojin is not a magical cure to Chan’s insomnia, as much as Chan would like to pretend he is. There are some nights when Chan’s heart just refuses to stop racing, when he can not seem to convince his mind that he is  _ safe,  _ but still he will lie there longer than he was ever able to stand it before, holding Woojin and letting himself be held. There will always be bad nights, even bad  _ weeks,  _ and he knows that, but he’s intensely grateful for the progress he’s been able to make.

A couple weeks after the recording night, Woojin watches Chan wake up and smile up at him, then leans down and kisses him softly. Chan turns as red as a fire hydrant and Woojin starts apologizing frantically before Chan interrupts him with another kiss, laughing through the clashing lips and teeth, heat still radiating off Chan’s face that Woojin teases him for later. 

Their relationship doesn’t change much, except that now there are soft kisses mixed in with the rest of it. Chan decides that he very much likes kissing Woojin. Woojin feels the same towards him. (They spend their time doing so accordingly.) 

“I’m so glad I found you,” Chan mumbles one night over the coffee shop counter, head resting on the cool porcelain. Woojin looks down at him amusedly. 

“Me too,” Woojin says, swiping at his head with a rag. “But I’m not selling you a coffee.”

“Not even for old times’ sake?” Chan pouts, and Woojin bites back a smile.

“Okay, but you have to drop all your coins when you go to pay for it,” he replies.

“Okay, screw you,” Chan says, laughing and standing up. “Decaf?”

Woojin leans over to kiss him on the cheek, and Felix makes a loud gagging noise from across the room. “Coming right up.”

A few days later, they’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Chan is talking enthusiastically about a remix he heard on the radio today, how it changed the chord progression and took it to tonic when it  _ wasn’t supposed to go to tonic  _ and how much it irked him. Woojin is staring at him with the softest smile as Chan rants obliviously at the ceiling, moving his hands as he talks until he trails off with a nervous laugh.

“But I’m just a music nerd, I guess,” he says, chewing on his thumbnail. “But--hey, you are too!” he adds indignantly, turning to face Woojin but freezing up as he catches sight of the look on his face. “You--good?”

“You know I love you, right?” Woojin says softly.

Chan goes very still, eyes locked with Woojin’s. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. It barely even looks like he’s breathing. Finally, he says in the quietest voice Woojin’s ever heard from him, “Why?”

Woojin’s heart breaks a little. “What--why?” Chan doesn’t say anything. “Channie,” Woojin whispers. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I’m a disaster,” Chan says.

“I’m in love with you.”

“I--”

“Chan. I’m in love with everything about you. You’re talented and kind and beautiful and funny and I--I love hearing you talk about music, no matter what it is, and I love seeing and hearing what you’re working on. You’re so kind and gentle with me and all your friends and you’re one of the funniest people I’ve ever met and I’m always happy to be with you and you’re the strongest person I know, and you shouldn’t have had to go through anything you’ve gone through but you  _ did  _ and you’re still here and--I’m in love with you, Bang Chan. It’s really important to me that you know that.”

Chan is still staring at Woojin, eyes glassy. He opens his mouth in preparation to say something else, but Woojin leans in instead, capturing the younger boy’s lips in his own and gently bringing over another hand to brush through Chan’s curly hair. Woojin can taste the salt on both their lips as he gently pulls back and kisses him again, lips slotting together with practiced ease. When he pulls back again, Chan’s eyes stay shut, face wet with tears but the smallest smile on his face. “Oh,” he says after a moment, opening his eyes and blinking owlishly. “I love you too,” he says, and giggles, sniffling. “I mean. I’ve known that for a long time. I kind of assumed I didn’t even need to say it.”

Woojin laughs. “Did you assume I already knew?”

“Well--of course,” Chan said, looking a little confused. “I’m pretty sure everyone else does. I’m not very subtle.”

Woojin blinks. “Yeah, okay, I guess not.”

“But--you really… mean it?” Chan asks, and Woojin hates the uncertainty in his eyes. He leans in to gently kiss his nose, then forehead, then each of his gently closed eyelids. 

“Of course,” he says, then whispers affirmation between each gentle peck.  _ (“I love you, I love you, I love you.”) _

(He never stops saying it.)

**Author's Note:**

> content warnings: mentions of past child abuse, and what could be interpreted as a mild panic attack
> 
>  
> 
> thanks for reading!! comments + kudos would be really really really appreciated
> 
> also, announcement - i'm going to start posting a chaptered ot9 fantasy AU soon! i've been planning for a couple weeks on and off and i think im gonna start writing soon so hopefully first chap will b up before end of may! watch out for that if u wanna read that <33
> 
> scream at me on my tumblr: jisapphic or my twitter: jisquishie
> 
> ALSO!! if u want to send writing/matchup/headcanon requests to me and to several other talented writers, please do so @kpopwriters on tumblr!! <3


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